


Come and Get It

by sorrens



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Godparents Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Canon, The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens), This will be fluffy, meddling adam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-05-15 07:35:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19291174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrens/pseuds/sorrens
Summary: That time when Adam got bored and started tweaking reality to help an unknowing Angel with his cosmic crush.





	1. Chapter 1

It started with a phone call and a warning.

Well, technically, it was multiple warnings from Anathema but this was the first time Adam had taken heed. Now that she knew Adam’s power, she was able to sense whenever he used it and it was killing his vibe. Like a pedantic parent who’s discovered that phones have GPS tracking now, the amount of times she checks up on him has been increasing exponentially since Armageddon’t.

Earlier that morning she’d clambered through the hedges at the back of the Young’s yard as Adam was teaching Dog a new trick.

“What’ve you been doing?” She hissed and Adam froze. Usually if he used his power he’d receive an angry sticky note, or a voicemail, or on some rarer occasions an owl pecking at his window.

“Nothing,” he replied, crossing his arms defiantly. From the kitchen window, he saw his dad wave to cheerily Anathema who’d somehow wormed her way in to being a welcome guest over the last few weeks. She waved back, still hissing at Adam through gritted teeth.

“Two times, just this morning…”

“Well, I was teaching Dog to jump up and catch this tennis ball and, well, it got stuck in the tree—“

“Stuck in a tree?!”

“Yeah, twice actually… wait, what’re you doing?” 

Anathema had pulled out her phone.

“You know what you were told.”

“So you’re going to tattle on me?” He said incredulously “Come on, it’s just minor stuff!”

He watched her scroll through her contacts nervously.

“Oh, _please_ don’t call him. It’s not a big deal. Plus it’s scary the way he talks, makes me feel guilty and stuff. How about you call my real dad?”

Anathema gave him a withering look and dialled Aziraphale.

As the phone rang, she handed it to Adam.

“What’re—“

“You’re going to confess yourself.” Anathema said firmly. “Take responsibility.”

“I’m just a kid.” Adam pouted. She ignored him.

 

“Good morning, A Z Fell and co booksellers. How may I help you today?”

“Uhhh…” Adam stammered. He wished Anathema had called Crowley, who’d secretly given him permission to “raise a bit of hell” and would likely half-heartedly scold him (but be secretly proud) if he heard Adam was flaunting his power.

“Who am I speaking to?”

“It’s Adam, hi.” Adam desperately wanted to hang up, but Anathema was towering over him.

“Oh, well, Adam what a surprise! How are you going my dear boy? I do hope you’ve been keeping Dog in check, wouldn’t want a hell hound—“

“Uh, I just wanted to tell you that I may have maybe been using my power a bit lately and I’m sorry.” He blurted out.

There was silence at the other end of the line.

Adam cowered slightly.

There was a hissing. Aziraphale had drawn in a sharp breath. He wasn’t good at apportioning punishment. It wasn’t very… heavenly. He looked desperately around the empty bookstore as if hoping a wild Crowley might materialise from behind one of the shelves. No, it was of vital importance that the boy didn’t use his power. It was a matter of safety. He should be… he floundered for the word and wished he had cue cards to help him.

“I am,” he began levelly “Very, ah, disappointed in you. That was a very bad thing to do. What if other angels or demons could sense your power and tried to track you?” That was enough admonishment, surely?

Perhaps it was the tone that the angel tended to take when he was disciplining the child, because he could hear Adam sobbing through the speaker.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. It’s just so boring having to do things normally.”

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale tried to come up with a solution that would put an end to the tears. “What are your friends doing these days?”

“Pepper’s gone on holiday to Scotland and Wensleydale has the measles and Brian’s grounded for the next week!” Adam wailed. 

Oh, dear.

“Well, I’m sure I can come down for a visit. Maybe tomorrow?” Aziraphale offered hurriedly.

Adam paused and sniffed.

“Will Crowley come too?” He asked hopefully.

“Of course!” He insisted “I’m sure he hasn’t got any wily schemes in the works these days. We’ll pop in around nine.”

Adam squeaked with delight.

“Thank you Aziraphale. I promise I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

 

When he hung up and handed the phone back to Anathema, she caught the strange glimmer in his eye.

“What are you doing?” She asked suspiciously. She’d seen that look, usually before a minor coincidence that left Adam with a free chocolate bar or a couple less chores to do.

“Stuff…” he said vaguely, and went back to throwing the ball for Dog to chase.

“ _Stuff_ is fine,” countered Anathema “as long as stuff doesn’t include powers.”

 

Adam, among other talents, was quite good at reading souls. Unlike Anathema, who only dealt with auras, he could worm his way in to someone’s mind and read their greatest desires as simply as if it were a children’s book. He had been fine-tuning the skill in the aftermath of the Armageddon’t. Firstly on Newton, he was a simple lad, and it was easy enough to work out what he wanted. It didn’t take a genius to work out that his making google eyes at Anathema as they left the airbase pretty much aligned with what he desired. That was when Aziraphale had pulled him aside and warned him against using his powers in the future. He liked a challenge. As the angel droned on about how heaven could “lock on” to his signal and try come back to restart the end of the world when they were feeling bored, Adam focussed all his energy on trying to access the Angel’s soul. It was debatable if Angels have souls. They had something that resembled a soul alright, and it only took a few seconds for Adam to figure out how to gain access. What he wasn’t prepared for were the masses of love and desire that toppled out and flooded his own mind. Adam didn’t need to go through and read the thoughts one by one. They clustered together to form a coherent whole, and the angel’s mind was singing out for… 

“Crowley,” Adam blurted out.

“I’m sorry, what?” Aziraphale paused, confused.

“Oh, sorry nothing, just learning names.” He smiled awkwardly.

Azriaphale straightened up and smoothed his waistcoat.

“Well, I guess you’re right. It’s probably only fair that we both have a word to you. That whole “cancelling each other out” business and the like.” He called Crowley and the demon sauntered over.

“I’ll just leave you two,” Aziraphale’s eyes lingered hesitantly on Crowley before the angel ducked back in to the conversation between Anathema and Mr Googly Eyes.

That was when Crowley shrugged, leaned closer to Adam, and whispered in a low hiss.

“Look kid, do whatever. Live your life. Raissse sssome hell.”  

 

Adam smiled innocently to Anathema as she made to leave the garden, waving her hands angrily and warning him not to pull anything until Crowley and the Angel came to visit. Certainly, he could keep that promise, but when they arrived? Oh no he had a plan.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam hatches a plan to get both Aziraphale and Crowley to visit Tadfield. The first of the meddling begins. Zira profits.

Crowley was lounging in the sun at St James’ park. Upon first glance it would appear that he was talking to himself. A second glance, however, would also indicate he was talking to himself. As Aziraphale approached he could see the lithe figure sprawled on the grass gesturing dramatically at the sky above.  
“What’re—“ the angel’s words were drowned out by Crowley’s hiss  
“… And that’s why you shit on the diplomats for countries that don’t uphold the UNHCR and not my leather jacket!”  
“Who’re you talking to dear?”  
Crowley sat up and smiled lazily.  
“The pigeons around here have pitiful aim. I was just educating them.” He said lightly. Aziraphale could see a few birds huddled in the nearby trees, quaking. He sat down on the grass next to the demon, who leaned towards him almost fondly.  
“What’s happening, Angel?”  
“Well…” he was mildly aware that he was sitting on grass and, by golly the stains that—  
“Let’s walk,” Crowley offered quickly, dusting himself off and helping Zira to his feet.  
“Nothing bad.” He intoned “Well, just that I was thinking we should pop by and visit Adam.”  
Crowley scoffed.  
“Nothing bad? And then you hit me with that? Nah, I’m too busy to entertain the kiddies with some cheap magic tricks.”  
“It’s just, I kinda already promised we’d go to Tadfield tomorrow.”  
Crowley stopped in his tracks.  
“Hang on angel. We? Since when are we doing couples activities?” He asked wryly.  
Zira let out a small huff, cheeks colouring slightly.  
“I didn’t think you were all that busy. For heavens’ sake, you’ve been talking to various feral animals like they’re your next of kin.”  
Crowley sniffed “Pigeons aren’t feral.” He muttered under his breath.  
“— And we’re not a couple.” Aziraphale pressed on.  
“Sarcasm, angel.” He kept muttering about angels and humour and hyperbole under his breathe as they walked around the lake.

Zira had stopped walking and, satan dammit, he was pouting.  
“That’s really pathetic,” Crowley warned, but nonetheless avoided looking in to the angel’s eyes.  
“Adam’s been really bored lately and he asked for you specifically.”  
The corner of the demon’s lips turned up, ever so slightly, before he slipped back in to his cool demeanour.  
“Yeah, I suppose I’m a bit more fun than having angelic influences breathing down your neck. Telling you to bless this food and do stupid things like stop at stop signs.”  
“You’re a terrible influence.” Zira admonished. “But he’s quite upset and I think it would cheer him up.”  
“Upset? About what?”  
“Oh you know,” the angel sighed “He’s bored and all, poor dear.”  
“And what, we’re supposed to rush in to make things interesting every time the reality of being a kid — with no worries or responsibilities, mind you — gets a little dry? No, angel. Besides I have lots to do.”  
“Hell aren’t sending instructions anymore.” Zira pointed out. “What on earth do you have to do?”  
Crowley paused.  
“Usual run-of-the-mill demon stuff,” he said defensively “besides, we were going to go to that new French restaurant near Piccadilly tomorrow night.” It was his turn to try pouting. Zira wasn’t having any of it.  
“Well, if you change your mind you know where to find me.” He huffed “I hope you feel guilty neglecting that kid whilst you’re off frittering time away talk to you birds!” The angel stormed off.  
“Neglect?” Crowley yelled after him. “I’m not his dad for satan’s sake!”  
But Zira didn’t look back.

Back at the bookshop, Aziraphale called the Young’s landline. An exhausted sounding Mrs Young answered the phone. She was a bit sketchy on the details of the whole… arrangement. She knew Adam had made some rather odd friends recently. The lady who would sometimes barge through their back hedges, well, she was just lovely. There was her boyfriend who sometimes followed her around like a lost little puppy. There were two other men, whom she’d only met briefly and found quite… interesting? Certainly they didn’t give off any bad vibes that activated her mother’s intuition. No, they weren’t anymore dangerous than Pepper and her new BMX bike but they were odd. The soft spoken blond one was asking to talk to Adam and Mrs Young happily went out the back to fetch him.  
These men dressed sort of funny. Maybe the way actors would dress? They were such a contrast of one another, like ying and yang, the man in the white coat and his partner in the dark shades. Though she initially thought it was a strange pairing, after watching the way they looked at each other reassured her that the differences were merely superficial.  
“Adam here,”  
Zira wasted no time getting to the point.  
“I’m sorry my dear, Crowley is very busy at the moment so it’ll just be me coming around tomorrow. I’ll come by bus.”  
Adam pouted, which unfortunately the Angel couldn’t see (such a shame because it was a good pout).  
“Crowley won’t drive you in his cool car?”  
“Like I said he’s busy. I can’t expect him to just drop everything to drive me places.”  
“Can you ask him again?” Adam pleaded.  
“I’m afraid not my dear, he’s in a bit of a mood.”  
“Okay, thanks for trying. I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
Adam put down the phone, deflated. How was he supposed to meddle when both parties weren’t present for the meddling. His train of thought was broken as Dog whined and clawed at his leg.  
“Oh, that’s a good boy.” He knew what Dog was suggesting, and it was a perfect plan. Quickly checking to make sure neither of his parents were around, Adam let Dog slip out the front door.  
“Go find Crowley,” he whispered and Dog took off down the street, moving abnormally fast for having such short legs.

It took Dog 4 minutes and 28 seconds to get to London. He got held up a few times trying to cross the M25. There were some stubborn cows blocking the occasional country road. He’d usually make better time. He tracked the demon to Soho. Crowley was sitting in his big black car deep in thought.  
Dog clawed at the door, to no avail. He barked a few times. He growled at the pedestrians that tried to pat him. Then, gentle hands reached down and scooped him up.  
Goodness. Overwhelming goodness. The kind that instinctively made Dog’s skin crawl worse than the most persistent infestation of fleas.  
“Dog?” The angel held him out at arms length. “Why, yes it’s you, I’d recognise you anywhere.” In all fairness, it wasn’t so much that Aziraphale recognised Dog rather, he assumed that because his fingers began to itched when he touched the dog that it was a fair indication of, well, hell-hound-ish-ness. This was incorrect. It was actually because his vessel was allergic to dogs.  
Either way, the angel made a positive identification.  
He’d noticed Crowley sitting in his Bentley across the road from the bookshop. Probably sulking, he’d thought to himself. He had come out to be the bigger person and extend the olive branch.  
“Crowley!” He tapped on the window, Dog under his other arm. The demon craned his neck.  
“What on earth?” He jumped out of the car and glared at Aziraphale.  
“What’s this?”  
“This is Dog. I believe you’re familiar.” Zira supplied helpfully (and dare Crowley admit it, rather sarcastically.)  
“Pssh, I know that. WHY is he here?”  
Zira shrugged.  
“Maybe escaped from the yard.”  
“Escaped from the— Angel his yard is hours and hours away and that’s driving. Dogs don’t drive.”  
The angel gave him a withering stare.  
“Yes, thank you for breaking it down for me. What am I supposed to do with it?” His hands were going red now and he passed Dog over to a reluctant Crowley.  
“Take him back with you tomorrow.” Crowley was trying desperately to prevent wiry dog hair from touching his jacket.  
“Take him— I can’t just take him on the bus.” Zira was incredulous. “They don’t allow those sort of things.” He hissed, lowering his voice as if the London bus drivers were eavesdropping.

Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose.  
“Fine. Fine! I’ll drive you both, okay? Just don’t hang around too long.”  
“And you’ll come in to see Adam?” Zira’s face brightened.  
“Fine,”  
“And Anathema and dear Newton if he’s around?”  
Crowley grunted.  
The angel smiled to himself, before taking Dog back and making kissy faces at the hell hound.  
“Well, I’ll call Adam and let him know to expect all three of us tomorrow morning.” He said primly and took off back to the bookshop thanking god Herself for this coincidence.

 

“Not on the upholstery!” Crowley hissed through gritted teeth. They had determined that, whilst Aziraphale was in some way allergic to Dog’s unholiness, the little terrier refused to sit still in the car and needed to be held.

Crowley had suggested just putting him in a cardboard box to which the angel had glared in reproach.

“Nonsense, he needs to feel loved and cared for—“ He broke away to stifle a sneeze. Crowley muttered something about the quality of Aziraphale’s driving (last attempt a few decades previously) and argued that if the Angel loves it so much he can very well fly it to Tadfield himself!

“Hardly subtle.” Zira replied, but he seemed to grasp that the demon was being hyperbolic in his suggestions.

That’s how they ended up stuck in the traffic of the M25 leaving London, Crowley yelling abuse at the car in front of them and Aziraphale sitting meekly in the passenger seat with Dog on his lap and a snorkel mask on his face. (“It’s just to stop you crying, see Angel? Put on some gloves and the goggles and _bam!_ You’re all set!”)

 

They arrived in Tadfield without major incident. (Crowley had referred to all of the toilet stops as minor incidents, and eyed Dog reluctantly before allowing him to hop back in to the car.) Adam was out on the street riding his bike up and down at a meandering pace. It really was boring without his friends, and doubly so without Dog.

“Dog!” He bellowed and left off his bike, as Aziraphale hurriedly deposited the canine on the footpath.

Adam started laughing when he saw the angel wrestling with the mask.

“I’m allergic to evil, okay?” Zira spluttered defensively as Crowley joined in.

“You sure do spend a lot of time with Crowley for someone who’s allergic to him,” Adam grinned slyly.

“Well, that’s different.” The angel adjusted his coat and removed the gloves. “I’ve built up a tolerance for him. Tea?” He bustled inside whilst Adam stole a glance at Crowley. The demon looked unaffected, but it was always so hard to tell with the sunglasses.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go out for ice cream and Adam gets blamed when Crowley uses miracles to make his angel happy.

The best thing about having friends who are adults who are actually cool is that they were enough of a decent substitute for the rest of the Them that Adam fell in to a rhythm quickly. The first place they went was the ice cream shop. Dog had refused to come (“He’s probably feeling a little off-colour having had to sit on an angel for so long.” Zira commiserated. In point of actual fact, he’d decided when they reached Tadfield that if the angel sneezed so violently one more time he would jump out the window and walk home.)

“Pepper says there’s a shop with 32 flavours.” He eyed the angel suspiciously. “That’s too many, surely that’s not real?”

Aziraphale shrugged.

“I don’t see why not. I’m sure there’s some places that do up to 50 flavours. What was that place we went in Venice, Crowley?”

It was the demons turn to shrug.

“Some Italian name I suppose.”

Aziraphale mistook the sarcasm for genuine interest in the topic and pressed on.

“Oh, I do remember they had the most divine blood orange and chocolate sorbet. Such an ingenious combination! It’s a shame that they had to close down in the flooding, I hope the recipe was preserved.”

Adam was still quite incredulous that ice cream flavours existed between the various permutations of chocolate, vanilla and strawberry and looked to Crowley as if he might cast the deciding vote. But the demon wasn’t paying attention, rather, smirking to himself  as he admired the passing fields.

When they arrived at the shop, the owner was out the back and the trio peered through the cabinet at the trio of ice creams before them.

“Oh dear, you were quite right.” Aziraphale patted Adam on the shoulder. There was a clattering and a man emerged from the back room, hands gripping a large silver container.

This man was short and plump and greasy and certainly gave the impression of never having made ice cream in his life. This hypothesis was further supported by the placards stuck in to the Neapolitan assortment each bearing “Wall’s” logo.

“Fresh batch!” He sung out, eyes slightly unfocused and vacant. “Rhubarb and custard.”

Aziraphale made a little noise of delight.

“How opportune,” the angel trilled, clutching Crowley’s arm with excitement. Adam watched as Crowley adjusted his posture, evidently basking in the angel’s glow and nearly gagged. This wasn’t going to be anywhere as difficult as he thought. Adam hadn’t manifested the ice cream, that was evidently one of Zira’s favourites but he wasn’t quite sure the angel had caught on that it wasn’t exactly a coincidence.

 _Idiots._ Adam glowered as he got his vanilla ice cream. Aziraphale was fussing around, trying to convince Crowley to taste the custard ice cream whilst Crowley only had eyes for the strawberry. Oh, and probably the angel. Yep, there it was, as they paid and exited the store Adam noticed Crowley hung back slightly with a slight smile on his lips as Zira thanked the shop owner profusely.

They were walking back up Main Street, Crowley slurping on his strawberry cone obnoxiously as if to drive home the point that it was the superior flavour, when Anathema rounded the corner. Even from a distance Adam could see she was on the warpath.

He squeaked and ducked behind Aziraphale, but she’d already seen him and was making a beeline for the trio.

 

“Adam Young,” she scolded. “I know what you did, I sensed it in an instant. What on earth happened to lying low? And you two, encouraging him, in broad daylight!” She sniffed and crossed her arms defiantly.

“Why am I the only one who takes these things seriously around here?”

Aziraphale looked between Adam and Anathema blankly before shrugging and plastering on a beaming smile.

“Anathema, how lovely to see you dear.” Anathema held up her hand.

“No, no, no. We’re talking about how this boy keeps using his powers, _even when you warned him not to_.”

The angel turned to Adam.

“When did you use your powers?” He still sounded quite baffled, his ice cream now sagging out of its cone as if melted by the rage emanating from Anathema.

“I didn’t do anything.” Adam whined and stomped his foot on the ground.

“Well, why did I detect a trace of magic in the ice cream shop?” Demanded Anathema, glaring. Adam snuck a glimpse at Crowley, whose eyebrows had shot up above his dark sunglasses, thinking. 

“It’s probably,” Crowley cleared his throat and stepped forward “just interference, put the three of us in close proximity and we’ve all got residual powers floating around and and maybe it just came together and made a _blip_.”He finished rather lamely.

Anathema glared at him as if to indicate the conversation wasn’t quite over but stood down nonetheless.

“You should all come around for tea. Newton’s making, well, tea see he’s been practising using the kettle without causing the whole cottage to short circuit and he’s gotten rather good at it. We’re at about a 50/50 success rate and we haven’t needed a firetruck since Tuesday.”

Adam made a face at her (which she graciously mimicked) as Aziraphale and Crowley agreed that it was a brilliant idea. They set off for the cottage at a leisurely pace, Adam purposefully dragging his feet. Surely Crowley would hold off on the minor miracles now he knew that Anathema was blaming him? He wasn’t confident in this thought, and resolved to dob on Crowley if he did it again. Not to Anathema, but to his angel. Adam had so wanted to meddle, but the two of them were basically courting each other right in front of him.

He rolled his eyes.

_Idiots._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The flirting is so painfully obvious that even Newton can spot it from a mile away. He and Adam make a bet over who would admit their love first.

Crowley and Aziraphale had never visited Jasmine Cottage before, and their arrival was thus delayed by the angel ooh’ing and ahh’ing over the plants in the garden, and then the architecture of the cottage (lamenting that the original plasterwork, whilst intricate, wasn’t very well maintained.), and then as they crossed the threshold, the inside decor. He struck up a conversation with Anathema about the history of the balustrade in the entrance hall, with Crowley listening intently. Adam rolled his eyes and stalked off to find Newt.

 

The poor man was sitting at one end of the kitchen table with the air of an electrocuted rabbit. When Adam followed his line of vision, he realised that Newt was staring down a cluster of kitchen appliances that were piled haphazardly in the kitchen sink. The tap was running. Adam hadn’t gone beyond 3rd grade science but even he could see an immediate problem.

“Won’t they?”

Newt shrugged vaguely.

“I don’t know. I just got the sense that another couple of seconds and they’d catch on fire. I was… being… prepared?”

His face visibly softened with relief when Anathema entered the room. He leapt up and wrapped his arms tightly around her. Flustered, she returned the embrace.

“Angel, I just didn’t think. Well, you weren’t answering the phone and the toaster just looked at me all flammable and the like so I panicked and well…” He turned Anathema gingerly around, so that she was facing the sink.

She sighed heavily, but followed up with a fond smile. 

“I’ll deal with it.”

“Oh, no allow me. This is quite dangerous.” Aziraphale blustered forward and waving his hands in the direction of the pile of metal and plastic. The appliances disappeared briefly, before returning to their respective positions dotted around the kitchen.

“They’re new,” the angel winked.

Anathema stilled, her eyes narrowing. Suddenly, comprehension dawned on Aziraphale’s face, followed closely by a look of panic. He laughed weakly.

“That one’s my fault. I’m sorry.” He adjusted his waistcoat and sat down at the table meekly. 

Crowley drew up the chair opposite and sprawled, amusement tugging at his lips.

Anathema seemed to let the incident slide and got to work making tea.

 

It took everything Adam had not to grab the nearest pots and pans and start stomping around the kitchen chanting “Not fair, not fair, not fair.” How was it that everyone else was allowed to do magic and only _he_ got a scolding? Surely it was the same thing. Well, Adam’s power was perhaps stronger than the angel’s by about a power of 10 but that wasn’t the point. Making ice cream appear and putting appliances away was child’s play. Hell, try restoring Mariana’s trench after the Kracken has dealt with it, he thought haughtily. He didn’t break from his reverie when Anathema placed a hot chocolate down in front of him. If he was going to get in trouble for meddling, he decided, he might as well pull out all the stops. Let the games begin…

 

His opportunity came when Aziraphale asked to see the back garden. Crowley, enthused by the idea of bullying some of the plants, trailed along as Anathema and the angel stepped out onto the lawn. Adam watched the trio from doorway, thinking of his first move when Newton appeared behind him.

“What’re you doing?” He asked slyly. Since the apocalypse that wasn’t Adam had endured the somewhat painful experience of Newt trying to relate to him. Newton, whilst probably in his thirties, had the soul of an eighty year old and the social tact of a hermit. He didn’t relate well to people his age, let alone 11-year-olds and yet, Anathema had privately pleaded with Adam to “give him a chance”. Part of him suspected that sometimes she needed a break herself and was trying to find her boyfriend a new best friend.

This was a good challenge then, thought Adam, to see if the man with the social skills of a pantry moth could spot the most blatant romantic tension this side of the English Channel.

“Oh,” Adam shrugged “Just watching the garden tour. Wanted to see if Crowley was going to scare any of her plants.” Crowley, admittedly, seemed a bit distracted. He’d sauntered straight past the wilting pansies that lined the path and downright ignored the lemon tree whose twisted branches were producing pocket-marked fruit. He was making a beeline for some verdant plants that had caught Aziraphale’s attention, except he gaze kept swivelling between the leaves that the angel was now lovingly stroking and drinking up the awestruck expression on his face.

Newt didn’t reply. Adam internally sighed, would he have to spell it out?

“They’re very close.” He said casually. It was purposefully vague. The angel and demon were currently standing shoulder to shoulder, if Newt was inclined to take things so literally.

“I guess spending 6000 years together will do that.”

Adam looked up in amazement.

“You see it?” And he didn’t even really have to elaborate on what “it” was because Newt took it into his stride and continued with:

“Of course I do, granted, I’m not that great with people but I’m also not blind.”

Adam giggled slightly.

“I think they love each other.” He giggled again, perhaps his eleven-year-old self was taking over. 

Newt chuckled too.

“Probably. But I think Crowley would sooner kill us all before he’d admit it.”

Adam shook his head.

“Nah, it’d be easy getting him to confess.” He replied. I know my people, he thought sagely, and if there’s one thing that hell can get behind is a forbidden love story. “I reckon Aziraphale is a bit more conflicted.”

“Well, sounds like a bet to me.”

Adam looked over at Newt, startled.

“What do you mean?”

“Whoever admits it first, I say the angel and you say the demon. If I win…” he crouched down slightly so that he was eye level with Adam. It was very, very patronising. “… You have to tell your friends that I’m cool.”

Adam snorted. “Fine, if I win you have to convince Anathema to stop bugging me about my powers.”

It seemed like a fair deal. They shook on it just as the trio in the garden noticed it was beginning to rain and turned to come back inside.

Anathema caught sight of the two boys shaking hands and her brow furrowed. Oh, _what now?_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team split up to wheedle love confessions from their betting subjects.  
> Crowley discovers the effects of a sugar high and Aziraphale talks to celery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I lost motivation for this story a bit but I'm back on track now! Hoping to update daily 'til these idiots find each other.

“Milk!”

“Pardon?”

They were back in the kitchen, Newt huddled over the countertop staring down at the kettle.

“We’re out of milk, I was going to go in to town to grab some.” He said casually, straightening up and grabbing his keys.

“Aziraphale, did you want to come along?”

The angel, who was staring absentmindedly out the window, started.

“Why?” He blurted out, before catching himself and following with a “Of course, dear, that’d be a lovely adventure.”

As the pair made to leave the kitchen, Adam saw Crowley make a move to follow.

“I want to go to the fete.” He had the whined down-pat, stamping his foot for extra effect. Crowley hesitated. There was some confusion as both Newt and Adam made a persuasive case why Aziraphale was absolutely required to help fetch the milk and how Crowley was, naturally, the only adult (shaped entity) cool enough to accompany Adam to the fete at his school.

Both were convinced pretty quickly. Within seconds Anathema was left alone in the kitchen, mouth agape. The kettle started whistling urgently. She opening the fridge to retrieve the near-full carton of milk and made her tea slowly, pondering what in the ever-loving-something was going on.

 

Newton had many skills — the ability to take the entire nuclear network offline in a single button press is perhaps one of the most notable feats that comes to mind. But another, that was currently unfolding in a small blue 3 wheeled car named Dick, was his remarkable lack of subtly. Aziraphale had cooed about its quaintness and Newt had held his breath waiting for the him to ask why it was called Dick Turpin but the angel was distracted by… well… everything. The village. The view from the window. At one point a baby rabbit sitting meekly on the side of the road. They ended up parking in front of a small florist’s cart and, again, something caught his eye.

“Did you know Crowley keeps a lovely garden?”

Newt joined him in front of the table of cacti.

“You should get him one.” He offered. “It’s dangerous like him.”

Aziraphale chuckled lightly.

“Hardly, he’s a big softie once you get to know him.”

Like a novice hunter bumbling through the undergrowth, looking for a target, Newt jumped on this comment as indelicately as only he could.

“So you’re saying that you like him?”

Aziraphale frowned.

“Well, of course I like him, as far as demons go.” Ah, there was the qualification.

“I mean, do you like like him.” Newt interrupted bluntly.

“I hardly think it matters how many “like”’s you use, dear.” It was a hint of condescending, as if the conversation in and of itself were superfluous.

Newt sighed. He had a feeling that not only were they not on the same page, they weren’t even reading from the same book. Aziraphale’s was probably titled something like “Goodest of Friends” which, roughly translated for the socially adept meant “Idiot in love.”

He left it alone for now. Aziraphale bought a small cactus with brilliant pink flowers blooming from it, and whispered encouragement to the little pot as they walked over to the grocery store.

“Wait here.” Newt left the angel talking to his plant in the produce section before wandering down to the fridges at the back of the store. He thought it’d be straightforward and cursed as he stood in front of the yoghurt section, having completely forgot what he was actually there for. Well, he hadn’t exactly forgotten what he was there for, per say, but his motivation was currently standing talking to a bunch of wilted celery. When he snuck a second glance, the vegetables had straightened up and were practically glowing. 

Obviously, the angel was better at encouraging celery than introspection. 

 

 

The fete was a small congregation of stalls and carnival rides on the school’s oval. Even as they were arriving, it was evident to Crowley how well-liked Adam was amongst his peers.

“Hey, Adam.” A sandy haired boy holding some fairy floss waved. “Who’s this?”

“My uncle Crowley.” Adam didn’t miss a beat. 

As the kid wandered off, Crowley’s eyes lit up as he saw one of the carnival games: a river of ducks bobbing lazily around their orange-clad attendant.

“Let’s get this bread kid.” He jumped up and down eagerly. (Who was the kid? Adam grumped)

“Bread?” Adam jogged behind him as the demon sped up.

“Figure of speech, kid.”

Now they were hurtling towards the duck game until Crowley stopped suddenly, causing Adam to crash in to him.

“Ooft.”

“Sorry kid, got distracted…” Adam stood up and shook himself off. For some reason it felt like he’d collided with a brick wall rather than the lanky man. (It was the wings, but Adam wasn’t to know that.)

Why had he stopped? Adam looked around and noticed a stall pile high with old junk, upon first glance. Upon second look, Adam concluded that it was, indeed, a stall of old junk. Crowley had already begun picking through a table of dusty old books.

“Books?” Adam didn’t mean to sound disappointed but, well, he was quite. 

“Always a chance there’s a first edition in here somewhere.” The demon muttered excitedly.

Adam smirked slightly, but Crowley was too absorbed in flicking through the dusty tomes to notice.

 

Adam sulked at the entrance to the tent as he waited. Relationships were boring, he’d decided, his cool friend was look at decidedly uncool books all because he had a crush. He was contemplating abandoning his mission when someone approached.

“Adam, how are you doing?” It was Miss Honey, draped in a large tartan shawl. She was Adam’s teacher: young, kind faced, and always radiating warmth. Adam waved slightly halfheartedly in response.

“…And who’s this?” Miss Honey had spotted Crowley. Adam saw her eyes give the demon the once over, curious and quite plainly interested. Crowley looked up briefly, peering over his sunglasses before humming in disinterest and returning to a decaying copy of Anna Karina.

Miss Honey looked momentarily put out. She’d never experienced such an immediate rejection, but quickly pulled recovered herself nonetheless. Turning back toward Adam, she glared slightly, evidently wanting a proper introduction or at least an explanation.

“Oh, this is my uncle Crowley.”

Miss Honey extended her hand politely, but Crowley ignored it.

“Sorry,” Adam started to lead her away from the tent. “He’s a bit distracted.”

He paused. This answer didn’t seem to placate her. In fact, she looked even more crushed.

“He’s got a boyfriend.” He added helpfully.

“Oh, OH,” Miss Honey’s eyes widened and her expression quickly defrosted. When Adam left her at the main stage, she was back to her normal self.

 

“Bloody waste of time.” Crowley stalked up behind him. “All junk.” He looked slightly more deflated than when they’d arrived. He seemed to have forgotten about the ducks.

“I need a strong drink.”

Adam grinned excitedly. “I know exactly what you need.”

 

“They let you buy these things, but you’re only 11?” Crowley stared incredulously at the pink slushy Adam had handed him. Adam laughed and rolled his eyes.

“It’s just ice and syrup.”

“Oh, okay. I need to teach you what a strong drink means, kid.” Crowley muttered but reluctantly took a sip and then tossed it back like he was at a bar drinking tequila.

“Shit.” He choked as the icy slurry burned at his throat, but appreciated the effect nonetheless. “Almost like vodka.” He noted, discarding the cup (in a nearby bin… he wasn’t an animal. Well, not at the moment.)

“Let’s find a bouncy castle, kid.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anathema gets involved. Crowley does some flips.

Ten minutes later, the demon’s blood sugar peaked and the excess energy saw him shedding his snakeskin shoes to clamber up on to the bouncy castle. Adam trailed along behind, puffed from keeping up with Crowley’s bizarre whims. You see, Crowley’s vessel hadn’t received anything like proper nutrition since the mid 19th century. Whilst any person worth their salt would deny that slushies failed to qualify as “nutritious”, they would also be wrong. Sure, the drink had no micronutrients of note, but it was currently supplying Crowley’s vessel with an tooth-rotting amount of sugar that it wasn’t quite sure what to do with. It turns out, the demon was quite the lightweight in this respect, and it only took that one cup of glorified cordial to induce a full-blown sugar high.

 _Not ideal._ Adam rolled his eyes as he watched the man doing flips in front of him, hissing at the children nearby and causing them to abandon their bouncing in favour of scrambling to their parents. Before he had any more time to consider what to do now, the sky grew dark and Adam became aware of a very angry figure looming over him.

Anathema pushed her glasses up her nose and glared haughtily down at him.

“What’s going on?” She hissed, sparing a glance at the demon (who was now doing handstands and shrieking like a 6 year old). She didn’t seem very surprised by the whole situation, it occurred to Adam.

“I’m not doing any magic.” He said with an air of hostility “I don’t know what you want from me.”  He took a step back and held up his hands in surrender.

“No, not that. This.” She gestured furiously at the scene unfolding on the bouncy castle. “You’re up to something.”

“Yeah, I’m visiting my school fete with my uncle Crowley who is currently taking his turn on the bouncy castle.” Adam said defiantly, but bit back the “ _duh_ ” that would have followed. Anathema was on the war path.

She narrowed her eyes and tried to relax her features. 

“Right, okay. Very well. I’ll just give Newt a call and we can all meet up here.” She studied the boy’s reaction, which started as a pout but quickly righted itself.

“Yeah, sounds good.” He shrugged. _Dammit_ , he knew he’d have a better chance of squeezing a confession out of Crowley if he wasn’t distracted making doe-eyes at the angel. Also, the demon had millennia of practice repressing his feelings, especially around Aziraphale.

Anathema took out her phone at the same time she begun to coaxed Crowley off the jumped castle. Newt answered the phone to a gleeful “You can’t catch meeeeee!” echoing in the background and naturally assumed Anathema was wrangling a small toddler.

“That’s not Adam, is it? Seems a bit old for that kind of thing.” He joked. Anathema huffed.

“No, it’s Crowley—“ she broke off as she grabbed the demon’s legs and tried to drag him off the castle.

“What?!”

There was a crackling — Newt had dropped the phone. By the time he’d recovered Anathema was frog marching Crowley away from the castle and the poor, shocked attendant who manned it.

It seemed like, finally, the cocktail of glucose and E numbers was slowly wearing off and the demon looked like he was coming down from a bad trip.

“Uggghhhh.” He rubbed his eyes blearily. “I feel sick.”

“You can’t drink a slushy then do flips on a jumping castle and not expect to feel sick.” Adam pointedly out bluntly, with the worldly knowledge of an 11-year-old who’s made that mistake one too many times.

 

“What’s going on?” Anathema stepped away from the pair and hissed in to the receiver. “Crowley’s behaving like a loon. Adam’s more odd than usual. You went to the shop for milk we had in the fridge.”

“Oh, ah, did we? Silly me.” Newt’s skills included being able to stake a claim to the title of worst liar in the greater Oxfordshire area. 

“Tell me what’s going on.” She gritted her teeth. She could feel Newt begin to tremble at the other end of the line.

“Well, hang on. Aziraphale, I’ll be back in a sec — Well, you know how you wanted me to hang out with Adam and stuff?”

Anathema groaned inwardly.

“Well, we have a bet going. Just a little fit of friendly fun and it quite requires that I’m here with aziraphale and he’s there with Crowley. It’s all quite harmless.” He said evasively.

The following question was so blatantly obvious she knew that Newt could even fill in the gaps. Anathema went for silence. He cracked in less than 5 seconds.

“The bet, well, yes.” He began to babble. “You know how the pair of them kind of have _something_ going on? We disagreed on who’d admit it first. He thought Crowley would and I thought the angel would be easier to get the truth out of and so, we—“

“You’re trying to get them to admit they’re in love with each other?” Anathema’s mouth formed a hard line.

“Yes,” Newt gulped and waited for the admonishment. Seconds passed, none came.

“Ah, hello?” 

Anathema had removed the phone from her ear, looking over at the demon and Adam playing some ridiculously childish game where they tried to trip each other.

 

“Can I weigh in?” She asked carefully. Newt floundered before making a small noise of agreement.

“I bet that they’ll kiss before either of them admits their feelings.” She said confidently. “That’s right. A stalemate. And if I win, everyone stops meddling with everything and everyone forever.”

Newt couldn’t quite imagine how she’d enforce that but took up the offer anyway.

Emboldened by the knowledge that Anathema had just entered the race with abysmal odds, he smirked as he delivered his closing line: “They’ve been dancing around each other for centuries. You really think they’re going to kiss, out of the blue?”

He’d already hung up and, even so, wouldn’t have caught the glint in Anathema’s eye. 

 _Amateurs, both of them._ Call it descendent-of-a-prophet’s intuition but not only was Anathema convinced this bet would pan out in her favour, she predicted she’ll have cinched her victory before the day was even over.


	7. Chapter 7

There was palpable tension when the group reconvened. The precedent had been set, the stakes were high and no one quite knew how the others would proceed.

The tension was palpable, at least, for the humans present. An angel and a demon remained blissfully oblivious as to what was going on and were chatting over the little flowering cactus. That was, Anathema sighed to herself, part of the problem (not the cactus, although now you mention it Anathema was fairly sure it was plastic. No, just the general obliviousness of the two.)

She suggested they all went for a walk to the quarry, which Adam perked up at, he was very keen to show off his stomping ground. So keen, in fact, that he didn’t notice Anathema was messing with his plan to keep the angel and demon seperate and wheedle a confession out of them.

Newt glared at her as they took off. He knew what she was doing. By keeping them together she was fiddling with the odds: now it was ever-so-slightly more likely that her bet would come to fruition but now, most importantly, Newt and Adam’s chances had gone down to a big fat zero.

Dog caught up with them as the wound along country lanes, Adam blazing the trail and occasionally calling back to the others to “get a move on.” It was really quite unfortunate that nobody asked his opinion on the whole matter because, if he could talk, Dog would have a very important tidbit of information to contribute to the stakes, one that would turn the game on its head. But nobody asked, so the hellhound stayed silent (and mildly amused as to how this might to pan out).

“This is where we play pirates.” Adam indicated a pile of rocks.

“Usually if we’re being detectives we’ll be based over there.” He pointed at a similar arrangement of rocks. “Because it looks more like a crime scene.”

Crowley’s eyebrows shot above his glasses, tempted to ask the boy what made _this pile of rocks specifically_ look like a crime scene, but thought better of it.

 

“This is where I sit usually,” he indicated the chair. Anathema and Newt had linked arms and were walking the perimeter of the clearing, muttering to themselves. Adam paused and was hit with the sneaking suspicion they were negotiating terms for an alliance in the bet. Insufferable. He rolled his eyes, wondering if all couples were all so outrageously _soft_.

“Are you listening over there?” He glared and the couple broke apart guiltily.

“Of course,” Newt stuttered “Nothing’s the matter.” Given the man’s social adeptness, it screamed _everything’s-the-matter_ and _yes-we’re-double-crossing-you-Adam_ all in one guilty smile.

Adam himself had quite lost sight of why he’d started the whole bet in the first place but now wondered if Newt would hold up his end of the bargain if he did succeed in getting Crowley to confess. Given the way he was colluding with his girlfriend, Adam pointedly rolled his eyes again, he’d hazard a guess that it was unlikely.

The little cactus had been lovingly placed on a large flat rock on the outskirts of the clearing. Aziraphale watching it nervously out of the corner of his eye as Adam showed them his playground.

 _If only they’d taken similar care with the antichrist._ Crowley thought wryly and suppressed a chuckle. It really was quite sweet that the angel was guarding this pot plant better than he did the Eastern Gate all because Crowley said he loved the present.

Well, all bets were off, in the boy’s mind. He was about to do anything under the sun to get this confession, even if it meant using his powers. Being right is always worthwhile, no matter how many months of steely glares and haughty silence from Anathema he’d have to endure.

 There was a supernaturally sharp gust of wind and the group turned just in time to see the cactus gracelessly plunge a few feet, pot shattering upon impact with the rocks below.

“Bertha!” Aziraphale leapt forward and knelt down besides the remains of the plant. “Oh Crowley, dear, I’m so sorry. I should never have put her down it was so stupid of me…” the angel was spiralling with guilt.

Adam hoped he wouldn’t start crying, because then _he’d_ start to spiral with guilt.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Crowley ran forward and crouched beside him, pushing his sunglasses up so the angel could see his eyes. “It’s fine.”

Aziraphale sniffled slightly.

“I wanted to get you something nice and I went and ruined it. She’s dead!” He said rather dramatically.

 

Anathema had stepped forward so she was towering over Adam.

“I think someone did it one purpose.” She supplied darkly. Adam took the time to stamp on her foot.

“Like, a crime scene… _oohhhh_.” Newt’s only aim was to not get on his girlfriend’s bad side since she entered the stakes. He couldn’t quite see how a strong gust of wind could be anything but an accident but also, he quite liked Anathema.

Adam glared at him.

 

Crowley was scraping up the remains of the plant gently.

“You named her Bertha?” He chuckled to himself as the angel moped beside him. “Is that after that old lady in 1999 who—“

“Used to spend every day at St James’ park feeding the ducks.” Aziraphale nodded.

“Had names for every single one of them. They’d even sit in her lap.” Crowley smiled, and it didn’t escape the angel’s notice.

“It always made you so happy seeing them cared for like that.” Aziraphale patted the demon’s hand. “I had hoped this cactus would remind you of her and the park.”

Crowley visibly softened, melting in to the angel’s touch.

 

Adam feigned gagging. _Idiots_. This was painfully soft.

 

There was a moment. Maybe the forgot that they had an audience. They leaned in slightly, holding eye contact, barely daring to breath. But then that moment was broken and the pair of them got back to tidying up poor little Bertha.

Anathema, who’d started punching Newt’s arm when it seemed like they would kiss, sighed and sat down on a nearby log, head in her hands.

 

“Angel.”

“Mmm.”

“You do know Bertha’s plastic?” He snickered, holding up the unaffected remains of the plant.

Aziraphale gaped. “Oh, oh. I thought she was blooming so nicely because I was talking to her.” He looked visibly crestfallen. The demon stood up and patted him on the shoulder gently.

“For someone so smart, you really are an idiot.” He said, all too fondly.

 

Anathema cracked.

 

“Oh my **god**. Can you guys just— ugh— _please_ — we’re suffering over here.” She stood up and glared at the pair of them.

“What?” The demon shrugged at her blankly.

She gestured wildly and frantically as if that would articulate her point.

“ **Just kiss already!** ” She yelled.

 

There was silence. Adam wondered what this meant for the bet. Surely Anathema was cheating by prompting them?

“She’s disqualified,” he murmured to Newt, who nodded in agreement.

 

Aziraphale looked like a deer in the headlights, mouth agape and staring at his human companions as if they’re just blasphemed.

“I’m sorry dear—“

“WHAT?” Crowley spluttered, cutting him off. Anathema reddened and suddenly because very interested in the dirt beneath her boots.

“What’s going on?” The demon hissed, rounding on the trio. Adam thought it best to cut to the chase, feeling a bit self important that Anathema of all of them had been the first to slip up.

“We had a bet about you. That you’d admit to loving Aziraphale. Well, that was my opinion. And Newt thought he could get Aziraphale to admit to loving you first. Anathema…” he shot her a glare “was not invited to this bet but decided to get involved anyway. She said that youse would kiss.”

There was a baffled silence.

“Why on earth?” Aziraphale looked positively appalled by the insinuation. “What made you think?” He frowned at the demon, who shrugged slightly.

 

Newt, of all people, was the one to shed some light on the situation.

“It’s so bleeding obvious.” He groaned. “You two always dancing around each other and pretending like nobody else can’t see that you’re bloody _smitten_!” He spat out the last word, without venom. Aziraphale turned a delicate shade of magenta.

“Absurd, dear boy.” He replied levelly. “Absolutely, entirely—“

“Alright, alright.” Crowley held his hands up in mock surrender. “Angel, this charade has gone on long enough. They know.”

The angel spluttered.

“We _know_?” Newt was back to his state of obliviousness “What do we know?”

“We’re a couple.” Crowley sighed as though the admission physically pained him.

“Wait, you’re already a couple?” Anathema’s voice was shrill.

“ _Couple of idiots_ ,” Adam muttered halfheartedly, but was resigned to the fact that it looked like they’d all been wrong.

 

The angel straightened his waistcoat and snuck a glance at Crowley.

“Well, we weren’t exactly going to go around advertising it. It’s not kosher, y’know an angel and a demon being… together.”

Crowley made a funny sound in the back of his throat, like a laugh trying to escape.

“I was all for telling you.” Said the demon. “I didn’t mind but, he wasn’t sure—“ Aziraphale bristled and cut him off.

“I just don’t know who is listening, and I was scared that upstairs or down below would find out, okay? I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. We had to keep our distance from each other.”

“You did a terrible job at it.” Adam observed.

“Yes, quite.” Newt chimed in.

Dog barked in agreement.

Anathema was crying.

“It’s just so, sweet.” She brushed a tear away and buried her head in Newt’s coat. “I’m so happy for you guys.”

 

Aziraphale reached out and took the demon’s hand.

“Thank you, dear. That means a lot to us.”

 

Slowly (and with a bit more sobbing on Anathema’s part) the group began to trundle back towards the mouth of the forest, in the direction of Jasmine Cottage.

Newt and Anathema linked arm-in-arm.

Aziraphale and Crowley linked arm-in-arm. Adam and Dog meanwhile…

“Hey, get over here!” Adam called as the hell hound hung back at the quarry and within seconds the little legs had caught up.

Dog was quite disappointed, in all honesty, he had quite a few powers but speech was not one of them.

Oh, how he so dearly wished he had been able to tell his master how he’d seen the angel and demon exchange a chaste kiss in the Bentley earlier that morning.

Maybe he would have been able to hold that secret hostage for a treat, or something.

**Author's Note:**

> "Come and get it" is a bebop song by Problem Child
> 
> I'm on Tumblr at [@sorrens](https://sorrens.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please feel free to browse my other Good Omens fics. I've written a few AUs, some angst, some crack, some questionable use of internet humour, basically ineffable husbands in many flavours.


End file.
